


Shantay, You Stay

by ithinkyourewonderful



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Mentions of Nick and Ambrose and Prudence, Nothing too graphic about how Faustus is a miserable being, RuPaul's Drag Race References, also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 20:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18557224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinkyourewonderful/pseuds/ithinkyourewonderful
Summary: Zelda Spellman no longer sleeps…She has entirely too much to do, you see.Her sleepless nights have nothing to do with what waits for her when her eyes close.  No, not in the least.  She has no terrifying fear of opening her eyes and being trapped once more behind them, unable to speak, unable to act, unable to do anything other than watch, helpless.akaZelda and Sabrina while away the sleepless hours watching some Drag Race (which is basically my head canon for how Zelda was able to confirm Ambrose shaded Sabrina).





	Shantay, You Stay

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Vague mentions/allusions to non-consensual sex and other general Faustus fuckery… Nothing specific, but still worth a mention.

  


* * *

  
Zelda Spellman no longer sleeps. 

Witches historically did their dark and dirty deeds in the dark hours of day, so sleep became a secondary concern for them, almost unnecessary. It was just something they did if and when they had the time and the inclination. So her sleeplessness wasn’t particularly eye-catching or relevant. She had so much to do after all: rebuild the school and it’s curriculum, help tend to the health and well-being of who was left of Faustus’ plot, regather the coven and strengthen it before they fell prey to a number of dangers now that their numbers have shrunk and their confidence has been shaken. 

She has entirely too much to do, you see. 

Her sleepless nights have nothing to do with what waits for her when her eyes close. No, not in the least. She has no terrifying fear of opening her eyes and being trapped once more behind them, unable to speak, unable to act, unable to do anything other than watch, helpless. Screams and spells and tears all swirling around within her. Watching Faustus, feeling Faustus, feeling Faustus _in_ her, over her, everywhere - he was everywhere and she cannot close her eyes without seeing him. There are some nights she swears she can smell him, the brylcreem. Every night she prays on her knees not for salvation or relief - no, every night she prays to Lilith that Ambrose and Prudence will succeed on their quest and return with his head. This isn’t a metaphorical wish, she sincerely wants it. She has had a box built and will keep it on display in the school as a reminder and warning for students what happens when you pervert the words of the Satanic Bible for your own, miserable gains. Should others also learn that you don’t cross the Spellman family, because they will fucking end you, cheerfully, well, so be it. 

She wraps her robe tighter around her waist and slips out of the office she’s commandeered at home. She shuts the door quietly, careful to not wake anyone as she makes her way down to the kitchen for another cup of tea. She unconsciously pats the head of poor Vinegar Tom on her way before she pours the water, lights the stove, measures the tea. Some nights (like tonight) are harder than others. Her heart cannot break anymore, and yet it does. For Sabrina, for her congregation, for Prudence and Ambrose, and yes, even the remaining two Weird Sisters, their own spirits dimmed in their sister’s absence. For Nick. While the Queen of Hell, Lilith herself has assured his care, only Zelda can know, in part, the anguish he will feel in hell, carrying another spirit within his body, unable to leave it behind. Always there.

The kettle is a second away from whistling, and so she turns off the flame and moves it off the eye of the stove. She does this without an oven mitt or a tea towel, and while she senses the metal of the handle burn into her flesh, she doesn’t quite feel it. She looks down at her palm, swollen, red, angry. She thinks about healing it before anyone sees it, then continues about the task at hand (no pun intended) of making her tea, she has time before others rise. Her body no longer feels like hers - she feels like she’s been severed from it. Ever since Hilda and Sabrina broke the curse. She was free _enough_ , but it felt like there was a part of her that was stuck, would forever be stuck between her soul and her mouth - sometimes she would choke on herself. She would open her mouth nothing would come out, just emptiness. She wishes she could cry, but not even that comes out. 

Night is the worst. Night was her favourite. The night was safe, and it was hers and now it’s simply long, unending.

She takes her cup in her hand and makes her way back up the stairs. She checks in on Hilda, fast asleep. She checks in on Dorcas and Agatha, Hilda having persuaded her to let them stay here at least until Prudence’s return, and they too, are asleep, if fitfully so. She takes a sip of her tea in the hall and then gathers the front of her robe in her fist and climbs up to Ambrose’s attic room. 

The door is mostly closed, but she can see the flickering of electronic light spilling out from the bottom, the sides. She nudges it open with the toe of her slipper and watches her young niece huddled on Ambrose’s bed, watching the small television without really seeing anything. Zelda chokes on herself once more. Her heart aching for the child, for her child. “Sabrina,” She finally whispers, once she can get the words out, “What are you doing up at this … Lilith forsaken hour?” The words are clumsy, but she refuses to reference the Dark Lord in front of Sabrina. Words have meanings and words have powers, she will use her words and her powers for as long as she has them. “Aunt Zelda,” She sits up, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”   
“No child, I was getting some tea.”  
“Up here?” She cracks a weak smile before she shifts over to one side and makes room for her Aunt who wordlessly joins her. Zelda hands her her tea cup and Sabrina takes a sip from it. An old ritual, left over from when she was a baby and would only eat what was on Zelda’s plate, drink what was in Zelda’s cup. Zelda takes an old throw off the foot of the bed - it was Ambrose’s mother’s if memory serves - and wraps it around both of their shoulders. They are both breaking with sadness - it weighs on them, bending their shoulders, their bones, their spirits. Sabrina settles against her Aunt’s side, and neither woman knows for who’s benefit it’s for, but they’re both so, so thankful. 

“I miss him.” 

Sabrina’s admission is soft enough that Zelda could pretend she didn’t hear it. “I miss them. All of them.”   
“I know,” Zelda admits, placing a light kiss on Sabrina’s blonde hair. “I know.” 

A moment passes, and then, “I think I missed a few episodes.” Zelda confesses. She knows Sabrina can parse out the meaning. She was always bright, so much like Edward. “These are old,” Sabrina looks forward, “We haven’t watched any after…” Ambrose’s imprisonment, her marriage, they both remain unspoken, “I’m waiting until we’re all back together before we finish.”  
“’Til we’re all back together, then.” Zelda offers as a toast, a prayer. Ambrose used to be up here with them, it once used to be the three of them gathered up here, Hilda out on her dates with that horrid little man. Zelda will hate herself even more if anything happens to Ambrose, to Prudence, and yes, even Judas. She should’ve stopped it. She should’ve been stronger. She could’ve been stronger. She feels Sabrina slip her hand into hers and wordlessly, her palm is healed. These children shouldn’t have to fight her battles for her, defend her, protect her, fix her. She chokes on herself again. 

All they can do is watch the screen, and be alone, together.

**Author's Note:**

> AN1: Yes, it's Chanté if you're going off the French, and Shanté if you're going with historic Ballroom spelling, but it's been decided it's Shantay by Mama Ru herself so here we are.
> 
> AN2: I legit had an entire head canon about the Spellmans gathering to watch Drag Race within the 10 seconds it took for Sabrina to ask if Ambrose shaded her, and Zelda to confirm. Once I got to the end though, there was just...a lot more to unpack.


End file.
